


Theatre

by ImproperDancer



Series: Campaign Stories [3]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Assassin - Freeform, Assassination, Blood, D&D, Death, Dungeons and Dragons, Eleir'Than, Murder, Other, Ril Arra'Xena - Freeform, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 20:25:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18645481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImproperDancer/pseuds/ImproperDancer
Summary: Yells and barked orders filled the night. Clinking armour and piercing whistles rang in the air, carried by the soft summer’s breeze across the rooftops. The lights of flame torches and mounted lanterns filled the streets and alleys, granting a flowing river of brightness in the otherwise dark landscape. It was a sombre event and the fearful atmosphere could almost be seen itself, floating into the night sky above.





	Theatre

Laughter and music filled the night. Clinking glasses and chirpy piano notes rang in the air, carried by the soft summer’s breeze across the rooftops. The lights of expensive gas lamps and even more exuberant magical glowing orbs granted a clearing of brightness in the otherwise dark landscape. It was a joyous event and the cheerful atmosphere could almost be seen itself, floating into the night sky above.

From a few rooftops over Ril sat on the ledge atop a building, back set against a warm chimney. She had a good spot to see into the large manor garden and watch the festivities. The building she sat atop of was a tall tenement, quiet and sleeping soundly, standing two or three storeys above the houses that surrounded the manor gardens. From her perch she could make out all the guests in their opulent evening wear as they laughed among their equally rich peers, drank expensive wine from even more expensive crystal glasses and ate tiny stacks of food that no doubt cost as much as a whole pig. Ril’s eyes followed each guest for a few seconds before moving onto the next, taking in their facial features and attire as she made mental notes. Her fingers restlessly flipped and twirled a short throwing knife, the metal almost ringing slightly as it cut the air around her hand. She could probably hit someone in the garden from this spot but at this distance it’d be tough for it to be fatal. Not to mention she doubt she’d be able to retrieve the blade and she had already lost one earlier this week, losing another would just be wasteful.

Ril’s eyes continued to scan and examine the crowd of wealthy party-goers. She saw a tall Elf woman in a sheer-cut scarlet dress. A short and stout Halfling woman laughed beside her, wearing a dark green cloak stylishly over a silk shirt and dark trousers. With their back to them, in a different conversation circle, a red Tiefling with vertical spiralling horns laughed raucously, a dark sharp suit cutting them a fine figure as a rather disgruntled looking Human man in a well-fitted traditional suit took a sip of his drink, clearly the butt of whatever the Tiefling had said to amuse themselves so much. A yawn broke Ril’s gaze as she stretched out her legs and raised arms in a wide arc, several joints clicking and cracking as she shook herself afterwards, trying to keep herself awake. She had been here longer than she wanted to be. Normally these types of contracts would be an easy in-and-out job.

This contract was different, however. As much as Ril has wished to simply break into the manor and get the job done nice and easy in the bedroom she had taken a set of very specific requests. No, this wasn’t her typical assassination. This wasn’t just a scorned business partner or slighted criminal trying to rid themselves of somebody causing them problems. This wasn’t simply an assassination. This was the kind of contract that paid the most. Some politician or noble wanted to send a message and wanted there to be a display. No skulking in the dark, no body to be found hours later and certainly no silent slitting of the throat. No, her Client wanted this to be extremely public and put on show for the world to see. Ril hated these sort of theatrical contracts, they usually involved far too much waiting around, but they paid nearly twice the amount of the regular contracts and they also did let her practice some acrobatics so they had their benefits. But had it been up to Ril she would have already killed her target in their own bedroom and she could be watching some pit fights. 

The worst part about this contract was that she had to spend some time doing her makeup and face-paint. As a Silent Sister, an assassin of The Silence, Ril was required to mark all her kills so that it is known that they were killed by The Silence. This acted, more or less, as a business card for the assassin group but it also sent a message in itself. The Silence was one of the oldest assassin guild in Eleir’Than and carefully maintained a reputation for being the best assassins money can buy. And it cost _a lot of gold_ to hire a Silent Sister. So, if you found someone dead in their home with a black ‘X’ painted over their mouth then you knew that somebody had paid a very large sum of gold to have them killed. That says something. That sends a message. Tragically, however, these public performance assassinations had to be done differently. Ril obviously wouldn’t be able to paint an ‘X’ on her target as she’d need to flee the scene almost immediately from their personal guards. In this instance a Silent Sister would remove the tight black mask that obscured their face from the bridge of their nose down and paint the signature black ‘X’ across their own mouth. This meant that the spectators would have the joy of witnessing a confirmed Silent Sister assassination. Obviously there was a risk of Ril being recognised but that didn’t matter. Silent Sisters never wore anything other than their concealing assassin garbs in their day-to-day life so she would just be another shifty-looking Drow when she goes to get breakfast tomorrow. 

Ril hated doing the face-paint, she almost always got some of the black paint in her mouth and she felt like if she was going to be seen she had better do the rest of her makeup. As it were, behind her mask was her black ‘X’ upon her mouth and she had heavily applied her black eyeliner and grey eyeshadow to emphasise something of a menacing visage. She was only small so she had to do her best to look intimidating. At the moment, sitting on the roof ledge with her legs swinging in the air as she bopped her head to a tune she was playing to herself in her mind, she doubted she cut a particularly terrifying image. 

As a breeze tossed her loose fringe around from under her hood she spotted her target, not for the first time that night. The tall Tiefling with deep purple skin and curled ram-horns had been moving from group to group, mingling with each group for about ten minutes before then excusing himself and moving to the next group. His suit was black but with a gold trim and basically highlighted him amongst the crowd, making Ril’s job much easier. Nobles couldn’t fathom their own mortality so they rarely took the sensible precautions to wear dark clothes to blend in with crowds and shadows. The Tiefling carried himself differently than the other nobles, he walked which much more confidence and authority. It was his party, after all, so he was in the position of social dominance here. He had a personal guard, obviously, and they did an even worse job of blending in. They were never more than ten or twenty feet from the Tiefling, fully armoured with mean looking halberds. They tended to stick to the walls or edges of the crowd so that they were near their boss but not intruding on the other nobles. Luckily for Ril this etiquette would make it much easier to kill the Tiefling, she hated having to fight metal-covered guards. 

At this stage Ril guessed that the Tiefling noble had mingled with just about everyone at the party so she got herself ready. She stood up from her seat and had another yawn and stretch. She slipped the small knife back into its sheath on her ankle and set into her routine stretches. It was important to make sure she was limber ready to exert herself so she spent the next few minutes running through a cycle of poses, stretching her muscles until they protested at the strain. Each new stretch prepared her small, lithe frame for what was to come. She was a small slip of a Drow, usually the shortest person in whatever group she was in and her tight athletic build just further made her an unassuming figure under all the black clothing and hooded cloak. As she finished her stretching, her back releasing a burst of cracks and had Ril sighing in relief, she took off her cloak. A rarity for Ril, her cloak was almost an extension of her body as this point, however she had to be sure everyone at the party saw her for what she was; a Silent Sister. Her mask was next, the cool breeze of the night are feeling a little unfamiliar against her lips as she bared her face to the moon. She took a deep breathe, the chill air filling her lungs, as she took some steps backwards away from the ledge.

Feeling the warm bricks of a chimney against her back she focused her eyes on the roof across the street. It wasn’t a large gap, a small street maybe twenty feet across at the most, but she had to be careful how she lined up her strides. She stood still in the night, her ears twitching erratically as they listened out. Her breaths were slow and controlled as she breathed deeply, using her diaphragm to fill her lungs. She could hear the laughter from the garden and the low hum of conversation. The music continued to fill the air with vivacious energy and she could hear the occasional yell of a song request. 

There was the sound of a steel fork ringing against a crystal glass.

Ril’s ears snapped back as she pushed herself off from against the chimney stack. She sprinted forward towards the edge of the roof. Her leather boots met the clay shingles hard as she braced her body for the leap ahead. She gave herself a boost of energy, increasing her speed for the last three steps before her left foot kissed the lip of the roof, toes hanging over the edge. In a rapid movement she then planted her left foot beside the right, being careful not to lose her momentum, and sprung forward. She soared over the gap, two storeys above the street, legs laid out straight behind her as her arms stretch forwards. She didn’t look down at the street, only ahead of her as she focused on the rooftop she was aiming for. The rooftop ahead gracefully sat a good two or three storeys lower than the tall tenements she had launched herself from. Her stark, white hair, loosely tied back, whipped in the cold air as she flew over the street below. The roof ahead hung out from its building and this extended ledge was her target. She felt her momentum wain as her height peaked but she hadn’t fallen off a roof in a few years and she hadn’t planned to do so again tonight. The palms of her hands met the lip of the wooden beam and her fingers snapped down, gripping the wooden ledge like iron as the rest of her body swung forward, carried by the full momentum of her body weight. Her legs swept like a pendulum and she raised her feet up flat and began to tuck her knees up. The soles of her boots planted heavily against the front of the building but she instantly sprung her now-tucked legs, launching her body away from the building. She took this movement and used it to pull her arms up and lift her whole body up and over the ledge, using the momentum to save her from exerting too much of her own energy. Her left foot reached up and met the roof first and she gave herself the final push to get upon fully onto the roof.

There was no pausing to admire the obviously text-book perfect acrobatics she had just pulled off, perhaps a little to her own surprise. She was sprinting forward again and focusing on her next target. Ahead of her, beyond the ledge of this two storey block of buildings, was the wide open street between her and the tall outer fence that surrounded the manor and gardens. The tall metal bars of the fence stood maybe ten or fifteen from the ground. The issue was the gap, however, as the wide street was definitely over thirty feet, putting the fence out of Ril’s jumping distance. She was, however, the best assassin in the world and making this gap was going to be easy. Even the fact that there were a couple of people in the street and a couple of towns guard and personal guards around didn’t worry her. 

Ril bolted forward, hurtling towards the roof ledge. As she did she reached into her pants pocket and removed her Hail Mary. A small piece of broken of roof shingle. She gripped it in her hand as the ledge came closer and closer. She had chosen her position carefully. The main gate to the manor was a little way down the street to her left. Ahead of her, parked maybe five or ten feet away from the fence was a small merchants wagon. She had made sure to pay off the Dwarf who owned it to conveniently get a broken wheel at this exact point. Ril leaped off the roof out towards the wide open street. The ground raced to meet her as she flew out into the open air. As her black-garbed figure came to meet the ground she twister her body in a spin, using her legs to swing and pivot. She took the momentum and released the broken shingle piece from her grasp, sending it blasting down the street to her left, in the direction of the well-guarded manor gate.

The shingle met its mark and the night was filled with the sound of a window shattering as glass exploded from the impact of the shingle. The burst of noise, coupled with the loud sounds of the nearby party, completely drowned out the sound of a Drow impacting the ground in an acrobatic tumble and roll. The guards’ all snapped to attention, looking further down the road towards the front window of a random building that had seemingly exploded for no rhyme or reason. This window of opportunity allowed Ril to recover adeptly from her tumble and continue to dash across the street towards the small wagon, the Dwarf owner also distracted by the sudden glass explosion. He gasped and stumbled when he caught a glimpse of Ril. She hit the wagon running with outstretched arms. Her hands grab the side of the wood and she swiftly climbed on top. Without missing a beat she took a bounding step from the wagon upwards, one foot landing onto one of the narrow concrete piers of the fence. She bent her knee and sprung ahead of her, jumping into the grounds of the manor. She couldn’t afford to pause, if one guard looked this way she would be spotted.

Now in the grounds of the manor, off to its east side which lay between the front and the back where the garden and party where, she bolted towards the manor itself. The tall four storey building had more enormous and opulently framed windows than could be considered even vaguely sensible. But Ril wasn’t complaining. The fancy brickwork framing made her job astoundingly easy. Her fingers and points of her boots easily found purchase against the pronounced blocks that framed the tall side windows of the stately home. Honestly, it was as if nobles wanted to be assassinated with how easy they made it. She scaled the building rapidly, her ears listening for tell-tale sounds that she had been spotted. It was hard to discern sounds this close to the party, the ambient sound of music and guests now at full volume, but she could hear the barks of orders from the guards to investigate the disturbance of the broken window. As far as she could tell, not taking her eyes off of the roof above her, she was in the clear.

A few seconds of pulling herself up with her arms and slotting her feet into the gaps of the brickwork to push herself up, Ril’s hands grabbing the metal guttering of the roof. The metal creaked and groaned but held as she hoisted herself up. She paused for a second, turning to look back down towards the street. All the guards were either looking to the broken window or approaching it. Only the Dwarf who owned the wagon was looking her way. That was a problem but she didn’t have time to do anything about it. She turned and ran across the roof towards to south side of the building where the garden lay.

Keeping her wits about her it seemed that there was no casual rooftop garden or anything of that sort, so the roof had no guards. Ril was thankful for this, dispatching people on a roof was a pain in the ass, she had blown her cover far too many times after a guard stupidly plummeted to their death when she had nailed them with a knife. Ril kept her footsteps light, keeping her heel from hitting the roof shingles with rattled slightly underfoot. It was doubtful anyone at the party would hear her from up here what with the music but it paid to be careful. She came to the edge, crouching down low as she did until she was lying flat on her belly, hands gripping the ledge before her as her head peaked out over.

The garden sprawled out before her, at least a hundred feet long and the same wide. There were small trees and neatly trimmed bushes and shrubs decorating the stony-paved garden. Tall gas lamps stood in the garden, softly lighting the party goers. They gathered close to the manor, filled crystal glasses in hand and contended smiles on their well-groomed faces. Amongst them, well dressed servants waited on the guests, filling empty crystals and walking around holding silver plates full of the stupid tiny foods that nobles seemed to solely dine on. Ril’s eyes flickered over the crowd of people, taking each one in. On either side of the garden, by the walls, were two guards with halberds in hand. Two of them who stood towards the east side were talking to each other, one looking out towards the street. They had likely heard something of Ril’s distraction but, mercifully, the trees and bushes and a beautifully made short wood fence obscured Ril when she had dashed across the manor grounds. 

Looking directly down, following the gaze of the party goers, Ril saw who she was looking for. Standing atop a short flight of concrete steps leading from an ornate patio was her target. The tall, purple ram-horned Tiefling was almost directly below her. He stood rather theatrically, a crystal glass in hand and a dainty silver fork in the other. It had been perhaps ten or fifteen seconds since he had rung out his glass to get the attention of the party. The music had gradually quietened and now the final notes hung in the air. The chattering and laughing had come to a low murmur. The Tiefling was already addressing the party when Ril looked down, getting fully into his spiel, beside him standing a dark haired woman. An Elf, perhaps? It was hard for Ril to discern from this angle and she hadn’t spotted her during her earlier watches. 

“My dear friends, thank you ever so kindly for taking the time to come to my humble home this evening” the Tiefling spoke loudly with the confident projection of someone who lived a life of talking down to crowds of people, “I understand this was somewhat short notice but I could not go without marking such an occasion with festivities and celebration with you, my darling friends.”

A light applause rippled through the party and the sound of polite whoops and cheers. Ril rolled her eyes, beginning to stand up now that was in position.

“As you know” he continued, “My darling Clay’ra have been long wed and even longer been so thankful to be a part of your lives as the couple you have come to know us to be. We thank you so truly and honestly for your hospitality.”

Having the target’s wife stand beside him here was going to make this far more dramatic than Ril had planned for. Not that it actually changed anything, it was just another act of theatre she didn’t care for with these contracts. She set her feet on the roof, toes of her boots hanging in the air as she stood precariously on the ledge of the roof.

“We ask you here, my dears, to celebrate with us. As much as this was to be an announcement I have come to suspect that perhaps one or two of you have put two and two together.”

A quiet laughter rumbled in the crowd. Ril snorted to herself, she never had time for how nobles spoke to each other or how every single thing had to be some big event. She took two long, gleaming blades from the straps on her thighs. The knives, each one made from one flawless piece of steel, reflected the stars of the night sky and the glimmering lights of the party. 

“My darling wife and I are so truly and impossibly jubilant to share with you that the name of House Targwyn will continue later this year as we welcome our first heir into the world in the winter to come.”

Applause truly broke out now and loud, unrestrained whoops and cheers echoed into the air. The crowd was completely engrossed in delighting in this news, as was the Tiefling and his wife Clay’ra. 

Ril gritted her teeth. Knives gripped hand, she held her arms before her, bent at the elbow. She crouched slightly before taking a short and precise jump into the applause and cheer-filled air before her. And she plummeted to the ground.

Bones shattered and blood splattered. Ril’s knees landed firmly against the back shoulders of the Tiefling as she kept her upper-body upright. The Tiefling’s body crumpled from the impact of the Drow dropping upon him from her four storey drop. His soft form cushioned her from impacting the ground. The thud and smash of bone again concrete tore through the air as if it were paper. His body lay sprawl beneath her as she kneeled on top of him, her knees resting on the soft mass of what were formerly hard and defined shoulders. A second after the impact, when she had kept her balance and remained on top of the Tiefling she plunged her two knives into the base of the Tiefling’s skull. Overkill, completely, his head had already laid in a violent splash of blood where it had impacted the ground with lethal violence. This was, however, all part of the theatrics. She had to be seen to be actively killing him with a blade. 

Ril removed the knives and stood up.

There was silence. It had happened in a flash of a moment. The man they were just applauded and cheering for had suddenly crumpled into the floor in a horrendous and bloody burst as this black-clad Drow crashed upon him and wrench his head with knives. She stood now above him. Knives gleaming with crimson blood. This wasn’t a Drow though, no. They could see her for what she was. The tight black leathers, straps of knives, and a face with a large, black ‘X’ painted over her mouth. They knew what she was.

Silence.

And then, shattering the window of serenity, Clay’ra wailed. She screamed as her husband and father of her unborn child lay before her dead, an assassin killing him right before her in their own home. She dropped to her knees, hand reaching out to her slain lover. Her voice broke and cracked as she screamed her soul from her body.

Ril looked down at her. She looked up, scanning across the crowd. She had to show her face and let these people know that this man was killed by The Silence. So, she stood above her completed contract and looked out to the crowd. She could see them stare at her, baffled and terrified. Nobody screamed or ran. They were like deer stunned by light. They didn’t know what to do. So, they stared. Not at the body of their friend, nor his grieving wife filling the night with her mournful screams. They stared at _her_. At Ril. 

“DON’T LET HER GET AWAY!!”

Ril’s eyes snapped to her right as the guards began to advance, halberds at the ready. She looked to the left and the other two guards began to close in on her as well. It was time to leave. The man was dead and the world had seen it was at the hands of a Silent Sister. No need for her to stick around and see what the guards thought of her display. She bolted forward, leaving the wailing widow and bloodied corpse behind her, knives in hand as they dripped blood through the air as she ran.

The crowd reacted now. Ril was sprinting right towards them. People yelled and cried out in panic, dropping the crystal glasses and scrambling to get out of the way of the assassin. The panicked crowed dispersed around her as she carved a path through them, the crowed desperately trying to give her a wide berth. They utilised themselves wonderfully, as they shied and scrambled away from Ril they completely swamped the guards and they had to shove and push their way through a mess of panicking nobles to attempt to get away from Ril. She didn’t need to push anyone, they all threw themselves away from her in every direction so the crowd practically folded before her. 

She came out of the crowd at the opposite end of the garden and kept running, heading for the rear fence. She didn’t bother to look behind her, all the yelling and screaming was enough information for her. As she dashed across the lush and soft lawn, a veritable oasis in the brick and mortar jungle of the city, she laid eyes on the tree she would use. She leaped in the air and her hands clamped onto a low-hanging branch as she then hoisted herself up and began to deftly scramble up the small tree. It only took a few seconds before she reached the top. Planting a foot against the central trunk of the tree Ril pushed hard against her legs and somersaulted through the air, clearing the tall metal fence in an unnecessarily acrobatic fashion, tumbling to a roll as she met the ground and rolling seamlessly onto to her feet as she sprinted down the dark street.

She could hear yells from behind her as guards called out and much more of a panic began to set in. The party goers were in full panic mode, wanting to flee to their homes but now feeling unsafe with an assassin on the loose who has made a point of publicly executing somebody in their own home. Ril ignored the cries, listening out for guards, as she ran as fast as she could through the streets. She darted into an alley perpendicular to the main street and took another left turn a short way down this alley. She passed by sleeping beggars and startled a few foxes, faces buried in bins and trash, as she bolted by. The buildings narrowed suitably for Ril and she jumped, planting one foot on a building wall. She then pushed off and reach out to plant her other foot on the other wall after a short hop, climbing in height up the wall slightly. She continued this, bouncing off each wall until she was able to grab the lip of a roof and shimmy up onto the roof, rolling onto her back to lay on the cold shingles.

Ril panted, her chest heaving as she lay flat on her back facing the moon. Her eyes were closed as she breathed, taking in the cool night air in large, unrestrained gulps. She felt like she had been holding her breath since jumping off the first roof. She might have been holding her breath the whole time, these swift attacks were usually a blur to her once she had done them. Her chest slowed as her muscles released their tense hold on Ril’s bones and body. Eventually she stopped being able to hear her heart crashing in her chest and it came to a much more reasonable pace. Maybe not a resting heartbeat but certainly not the cardiac arrest she had been experiencing for a moment there. Her hands relaxed and the white-knuckle grip relinquished the knives she held and they lightly clinked onto the hard tiles beneath her. 

She could hear the yelling of guards and civilians. Whistle were being blown and she could hear the sounds of other guards arriving. The towns-guard will soon be swarming the area. Ril hadn’t gone very far, however. If she stood she’d probably be able to still see the manor. The guards would assume that she’s still running away and are likely to go searching for her at least a street or two away. Besides, the towns-guards didn’t concern her. Broadly speaking, towns-guard and other authorities had very little interest in finding and arresting an assassin at large. They valued their lives far above that kind of job and most guards didn’t care when another super-rich toff was put in the ground. Sure, the occasional aspirational guard or lieutenant would hunt her more doggedly but overall Ril had little concern of being diligently pursued.

Taking a deep breath Ril sat up, shuffling awkwardly a little more onto the roof and away from the edge, scooping up her knives. She gave them a quick wipe on her trousers before sheathing them. Her neck cracked and joints popped as she gave a long and exaggerated stretch. She rubbed her eyes and gave a yawn. It had been a long night and she was long overdue a few hours of trance. But first she had to go and collect her cloak and things from their hiding spot behind the chimney she had been sitting at. So, she began to take a leisurely stroll across the rooves.

Ril was, in general, quite pleased with herself. She had slapped this plan together while eating a cinnamon cake this afternoon after listening in on some nobles. And she had gone and killed her target not a day after she had been given the contract. An easy few hundred gold. She looked to the manor as she walked across the rooves. She could still hear Clay’ra screaming and crying. Her wails piercing the night harder than Ril’s knives ever could. She felt a pang of guilt, obviously, but life is fleeting and nobody is exempt from what a sharp blade brings. Nobles rarely ever suffered so it’s good to remind them that their just as mortal as the rest of the world. That’s how Ril saw it, at least. 

Yells and barked orders filled the night. Clinking armour and piercing whistles rang in the air, carried by the soft summer’s breeze across the rooftops. The lights of flame torches and mounted lanterns filled the streets and alleys, granting a flowing river of brightness in the otherwise dark landscape. It was a sombre event and the fearful atmosphere could almost be seen itself, floating into the night sky above.


End file.
